


Cold Winds Blow the Season

by cloverfield



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Cuddling to Preserve Body Heat, Gen, Huddling For Warmth, Minor Implications of Fai's Past, Pre-Relationship KuroFai, Snow, extreme cold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22664728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverfield/pseuds/cloverfield
Summary: “Oh! Look!” says Sakura, barely a second after they land, and her breath spirals away in a cloud of fog and ice crystals.“Oh! Snow!” says Syaoran, blinking fast-falling flakes from his eyelashes and grinning in excitement.“Oh,hell,” mutters Fai, at exactly the same moment Kurogane thinks it, and they both share the same glance over the top of the kid’s heads:we need to find shelter. Now.
Relationships: Everybody & Mokona, Fay D. Fluorite & Kurogane & Sakura & Syaoran (CLAMP), Fay D. Fluorite/Kurogane
Comments: 8
Kudos: 122





	Cold Winds Blow the Season

**Author's Note:**

> "The lil travelling Tsubasa fam landing in a cold, snowy landscape and huddling together for warmth like a little family of penguins."

“Oh! Look!” says Sakura, barely a second after they land, and her breath spirals away in a cloud of fog and ice crystals.

“Oh! Snow!” says Syaoran, blinking fast-falling flakes from his eyelashes and grinning in excitement.

“Oh, _hell_ ,” mutters Fai, at exactly the same moment Kurogane thinks it, and they both share the same glance over the top of the kid’s heads: _we need to find shelter. Now._

“But it’s only snow!” whines Mokona, trying to wriggle loose from where Kurogane has grabbed her and shoved her into the cowl of his cloak. Her ears whip about in the sharp wind that gusts around them as she struggles, but even threatening to slip through Kurogane’s fingers like a wet bar of soap she can’t get free.

“It’s going to be a blizzard before long,” says Fai flatly, and there’s no cheer at all in his voice, not even the false kind; Kurogane can’t even be pleased the mage has dropped the mask like a hot stone seeing as they’re probably going to freeze to death before he has time to really appreciate it.

“How can you – _pbbft–_ tell?” spits Syaoran, along with a mouthful of snow, and then squeaks when Kurogane picks him up one-armed and slings him over his shoulder. They’re already calf-deep in the heavy drifts piling up around them; it won’t be long before the kids are snowed under completely.

“I have some experience with snowstorms,” says Fai vaguely, and bundles up Sakura in his arms and the fluffy folds of his coat before Syaoran can ask any further. “Princess, put your arms around my neck, please. I need you to hang on.” His thin face is grim, feathery eyebrows drawn tight and those blue eyes darker than Kurogane has seen them. “We need to get moving before the weather gets worse.”

The dark clouds on the horizon –at least, what Kurogane can see of them from the wind that whips up a flurry of blinding white right across their line of sight– are enough to put down any arguments, and even the manjuu gets the message, huddling down close and tucking her tiny head under Kurogane’s chin.

“Can you march, Kuro-san?” says Fai, with no small degree of urgency, tucking Sakura’s head against his shoulder and tightening the folds of his cloak around her. Her eyes are big and green and worried. “We need to move quick.”

“Further than you can, I bet,” Kurogane grunts, and hooks his arm around the elbow the mage holds out to him, pulling himself close; with how quick the snow is falling and with how cold it already is, if they get separated, they’re as good as dead.

Fai nods, his hood falling over his face in a smoothly practiced movement that casts his features into shadow. “I’ll lead. Don’t let go of my arm,” and just like that he’s loping into the snow with long-legged strides, the tug of his elbow against Kurogane’s a beckoning pull he can’t do anything but follow.

Kurogane loses time, for a little while; loses it to endless white and the howling wind and the creeping chill that numbs his nose and stings his eyes and creeps frost across his hair. He counts his steps as best he can, huffing out breaths in time with the pounding of his heart and Syaoran’s chattering teeth as they slog doggedly forward – but when the kid stops shivering (a bad sign in weather like this) they stop moving for a bit so Kurogane can pull Syaoran into the folds of his cloak to bring back some warmth to that skinny little body, and he loses track of the numbers; by then the wind has become a gale, and it’s too late to start counting again.

“Not much further!” roars Fai, his words snatched screaming into the storm, and Kurogane squints into the blinding swarm of snowflakes to catch a glimpse of Sakura’s gingery hair tucked under his chin, one green eye bright against the fur-trim of Fai’s coat. “I see a cave!” Mokona clings to the pulse that pounds in Kurogane’s throat, tiny little paws shaking against his skin, and Kurogane has no choice but to trust the mage is right.

There could be anything there: beasts or men or monsters not the least of the danger that could lie in wait, but the cave is not too deep, a smooth shallow hollow of cold stone left dark and empty, barely as tall as he is, and it’s with a bone-deep relief that Kurogane drops the kid down to the icy ground and dumps his cloak atop him in a heavy heap of cloth. “Wrap yourself up with the Princess,” he rasps, throat tight from cold, and in the corner of his eye he sees Fai directing Sakura to do much the same. “Hold the manjuu for me, wouldya?”

“Please hurry!” squeaks Mokona, a tiny blur of fur huddling between the kids as Fai drags Kurogane over to the mouth of the cave, and between the two of them they scrape up snow and pack it into bricks of ice, Fai’s gloves quickly soaked through and Kurogane’s hands pale and numb within minutes.

“Much more of this, and you’re going to lose your fingers,” mutters Fai, moving with more speed than any man should after quick-marching what has to be at least a dozen miles through snow. “And your armour is going to freeze.” He sounds worried, and he’s not wrong.

“Hurry up then,” snaps Kurogane, ignoring the burn of ice beneath his fingernails. “The quicker we wall it off, the sooner we can stop.”

Fai knows what he’s doing though, ramming snow across the entrance of the cave with the ease of someone experienced; it’s quicker than Kurogane expected that they find themselves slamming the last of the snow home, the wind whistling sharp through the ventilation gaps the mage has worked into their ice-wall to keep their air from going stale.

Kurogane is shivering, though, full-body shudders that jolt the bones; unlike Fai, he doesn’t have layers of fur and lacquer armour is not good for trapping body heat. “Come on,” says Fai, and drags him away by the arm, stripping off his gloves as he goes.

Kurogane can’t even protest when cold fingers find the buckles of his armour, lacquer slats swinging loose as they both work to strip them away as quickly as possible; beneath the layers of their cloaks, he’ll be better off without it, at least as long as the storm lasts.

Syaoran cottons on quick, but not as quick as Sakura: she’s up and on her feet when Kurogane and Fai reach their huddle at the back of the cave, and she drapes the folds of the cloak around their shoulders as they both sink down to the ground, Syaoran working quick to follow her lead as Mokona jumps into Kurogane’s arms, leaping up to nuzzle in under his neck. He’s too damn cold to protest.

“Get the cloth between us and the wall, Sakura-chan,” says Fai softly, tugging the folds around them both and tucking heavy drapes of fur beneath the dark wool Kurogane’s cloak is woven of. “The wool will stop the wind and the wet; the fur will keep us warm.” He presses up against Kurogane’s side, and the heat of his body is more than Kurogane expected for someone so thin.

“We should share body heat,” says Syaoran slowly, as though reciting from a book. “If we huddle in together it’ll be warmer.”

“Get over here, then,” grumbles Kurogane, but his teeth are chattering too much to make much of it. “Or do you wanna freeze?”

“Excuse me,” says Sakura politely, and climbs into Fai’s lap as delicately as possible, even as Syaoran mumbles something embarrassed and hesitantly edges closer. Kurogane rolls his eyes and grabs the kid by the wrist, tugging him down.

“I’m not gonna bite you,” he mutters, and Syaoran nods, ears burning red as he huddles in close, Kurogane draping one arm and the last of the cloak around them both, matching it up with the folds Fai holds in one skinny hand.

“Well now,” says Fai, smoothing down the last of the folds and wriggling a bit to work Kurogane’s other arm up and over his shoulders. “Isn’t this cosy?”

 _Cosy_ is not the word Kurogane would use for being stuck in an icy hole with only a wall of snow between you and certain, frozen death from the blizzard outside, but even now the air in the cave is warming just a little, the dim bluish light filtering through the gaps in the ice casting soft shadows across all their faces, and Fai manages a smile for the first time in what must be hours as he drops his chin on top of Sakura’s head and pulls in as close as he can to Kurogane’s side.

“Your hands are cold,” mutters Kurogane, because they _are_ , and also since when was he elected to act as the big spoon? _Because you’re the biggest,_ say Fai’s eyes as the mage winks at him, and Kurogane huffs out a sigh that doesn’t turn into ice crystals for the first time since they landed on this snowball of a world.

“How long d’you think the storm will last?” yawns Syaoran, sounding more than a little drowsy; the manjuu is already asleep, snoring away in the crook of Kurogane’s shoulder like a tiny warm dumpling, and the princess is nodding off just as quickly, her head dipping heavily against Fai’s chest.

“Long enough,” says Fai gently. “Go to sleep, Syaoran-kun; Kuro-sama and I will keep watch.”

“But–”

“Shut up and sleep,” grumbles Kurogane, and drops a heavy hand on messy brown hair. “The mage said it, didn’t he? We’ll wake you when the storm’s over.” Even with all his protesting, the kid is asleep in minutes, a heavy warm weight in Kurogane’s lap, and he can’t even argue when the mage’s head drops onto his shoulder too.

“I thought we were keeping watch,” he snaps, but quietly – the kids are sleeping, dammit – and Fai laughs just as softly.

“I never said I was _sleeping_ , Kuro-rin. You’re so warm for someone so grumpy.”

“You can shut up too,” mutters Kurogane, but the arm around Fai’s skinny shoulders drags him closer all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Considering his height and musculature, Kurogane probably gives off heat like a sauna. Is it any wonder he gets picked to be the big spoon?


End file.
